


The moon that breaks the night

by onemoreepisode



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 16:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemoreepisode/pseuds/onemoreepisode
Summary: Laurent had lost himself in his own trap. In the days following Damen's confession, he tries to make sense of a love that was built on a lie. And at night, he lets himself recall the brief moments of happiness that slipped through his fingers along with the kind of future he had never dreamed could be his.The truth hadn’t set him free. Damen’s confession had been a sorcerer’s curse that had bewitched them both back into their own personal prisons. Damen was once again an imposter who had crossed the line, and a murderer too. And Laurent… well. Laurent was what he was. An ice prince who had manipulated a situation for his own ends, had done what was necessary to retain autonomy over his kingdom and to hell with the morals that led him there.





	The moon that breaks the night

Laurent untied his jacket, his fingers working quickly and methodically through the laces as he felt beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. He let out a shallow breath and ran his hand behind his neck, feeling the muscles clench and unclench as his eyelids flutter closed.

It had been another long day of maintaining order over his men, his kingdom, and, perhaps most difficult of all, his own thoughts. _The truth will set you free_ , Auguste had once gloated in sarcasm after winning another round of cards in the Arles library.

It had been an unreasonable statement at the time, something that 11-year-old Laurent, with a mind for trickery, deceit, and small but fully formed white lies had found difficult to fully understand.

It was still a ridiculous notion for 21-year-old Laurent to digest, having lost another person who had proved that life could be _more_ than getting through each day alive, in piece, and one step ahead of the Regent. For seven years he had thought of nothing else, had never believed himself to be capable of the kind of experiences that other people had.

Sex had been off the cards, love had been unthinkable. But as he sat down and pulled off his boots, Laurent let himself recall their showdown. The waiting, the worrying, the feeling that he had swallowed a large chunk of ice that was slowly working its way through his system, leaving him with no other option but to lean against the tent pole and wait for Damen to walk into a conversation that he was not ready – would never be ready – to have.

Years of practice had given him the ability to control every expression and every flicker of emotion that could ever have crossed his face, but there was a split second when the sheer relief upon seeing Damen alive and well had caused his heart to give a loud and solitary thump in his chest. _Thank God_ , he had thought, and _What now? Let him hate me, let me hate him in return, let this be simple._

The truth hadn’t set him free. Damen’s confession had been a sorcerer’s curse that had bewitched them both back into their own personal prisons. Damen was once again an imposter who had crossed the line, and a murderer too. And Laurent… well. Laurent was what he was. An ice prince who had manipulated a situation for his own ends, had done what was necessary to retain autonomy over his kingdom and to hell with the morals that led him there.

And yet, as he lay back in an empty bed that was far too big for him, contemplating another day of internal factions, unforeseen problems, and a loneliness so paralysing that it almost stopped the breath in his own throat, Laurent found himself picturing Damen’s hazy and dimpled grin as he stumbled back to their tent after the incident with the Vaskian women.

He recalled the adrenaline pumping through his veins after their moonlit chase on the rooftops. Felt the tender warmth of Damen’s kiss as it pressed into his neck, felt the current that travelled through his entire body and left his hands shaking when the pair had locked eyes during the rendition of Conquest of Arsaces.

He clung onto these moments like a man trying to hold onto sand, wishing that he could forge these granules into blocks of crystallised glass that he could keep forever and peruse at will, but instead feeling them slip from his hands as each day left those golden memories further behind him as a colder and more familiar future beckoned.


End file.
